I hear disturbed air
protest, sharpened iron moving too fast.
The sensible world in apology
lends me all it has. So blessed,
I am thankful, beginning
an elaborate fantasy.
Wielding the blade myself
I am Shiva, the destroyer,
my curfew by nightfall
savagely enforced.
The eyes of tigers still fiercer
crave those remaining proud.
And by the smell of evil
they shall be hunted down,
before a sweet dawn carries in
a bounty for beating hearts.